


As I Burn Up In Your Presence

by Nevanna



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Age Difference, Dysfunctional Relationships, First Time, M/M, Manipulation, Missing Scene, Multi, Power Imbalance, Sensory Deprivation, Sex Magic, Submission, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 21:52:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16900488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna/pseuds/Nevanna
Summary: Alex and Thom find their way to each other, but Roger won't let either of them go.





	As I Burn Up In Your Presence

**Author's Note:**

> This story shares continuity with [And I Start To Drown](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16077272) (and started out as a continuation from a scene in that fic), and likewise takes its title from the song "Ghost" by the Indigo Girls.

The first time that Alex watches the Beltane fires from the castle wall, he and Francis have followed Gary outside just as darkness is falling. “Father says that we’ll be invited to participate when we’re older,” Gary tells them. “If we’ve found someone to celebrate with.”

“And _if_ we’re not too bruised from staff fighting,” Francis remarks. 

Alex elbows him. “Maybe _you’ll_ let that slow you down. Not all of us will.” He doesn’t give much thought to the other “if,” since he has only the barest understanding of what this festival means, or will mean in the coming years. He’s content to enjoy the splendid view of the city and the points of light that flare throughout the Royal Forest, alongside friends who strive toward the same shining future that he does.

\--

The first time he hears about Thom of Trebond in more than a passing comment, Alex has worked harder than ever before to out-shoot Alan on the archery range. As they cross the palace grounds, he muses aloud that anybody who has any sort of talent should try to hone it as sharply as possible.

“You sound like my brother,” Alan says with a slight smile. “He was the one who convinced me that ignoring my magic wouldn’t make it go away. He wouldn’t have hesitated before…” He trails off, then plunges on before either of them can dwell for too long on Francis’ death from the Sweating Sickness several months before. “Thom is even more ambitious about sorcery than you are about swordplay, if that’s at all possible.”

“And does he know that you’ve started taking magic lessons from the Duke of Conté?” All of Prince Jonathan’s friends have known for years that he has the Gift, though he rarely uses it in front of them. Although Alan has kept his own magic a secret since they met, it’s easy for anybody who pays attention to see that he’s been hiding _something_.

“I’ll tell him as soon as I have the chance,” Alan says. “Alex?”

“Yes?”

“What do _you_ think of him? Duke Roger, I mean.”

“I barely know him,” Alex admits. “But I can see why everybody finds him so impressive.” Unsure of where his friend’s question came from, he tries to sound casual, as if his first brief conversations with Roger hadn’t left him craving another smile, another word of approval, another moment of contact with those incredible blue eyes. “Race you to the next gate?” he suggests.

Alan grins. “Absolutely.”

\--

When Alex dressed for his first and only Beltane feast as Duke Roger’s squire, he did not exactly plan for his clothes to end up on the floor beside Roger’s bed. Before this evening, he hadn’t known what his knight-master’s manhood looked like (though he’d imagined it more than once), much less what it tasted like. He barely knew how his own parts could feel in other hands. And he has known how it felt to be admired… but never _desired_ , never like this.

“…asked you a _question_.” A sharp, not entirely unpleasant pinch to his nipple punctuates the sentence. “How much are you willing to give me?”

“Everything, my lord,” Alex says, and means it. So much of this is new, but the need to prove himself, especially to a man who has enthralled almost everyone in the palace and could probably bed half of those people if he wished, is very familiar.

Roger shifts beside him and reaches for the jar on the bedside table. He coats his fingers with another layer of oil, and chuckles when Alex arches toward his touch. “Then I want to see the look on your face when you do. Stay on your back.” His hand lingers between Alex’s legs for a moment, grazes his shaft before moving further back to probe at the hole there with slick fingers. “This will ease my way inside you, but you must relax, if you can.”

Alex, who has always taken “if you can” as a challenge, arranges his hips and legs as Roger instructs, earning more words of approval. He’s heard whispers about what comes next, and can only guess at how much it might hurt, but thinks that it would be foolish to ask.

He clenches his teeth and tries to move with the new sensations, like he’s pushed through strained or kinked muscles during a fight. 

He’s not sure what he’s fighting, or – when he sees Roger grinning down at him – who is supposed to win.

\--

Gary’s voice – “Alex, _stop_ it” – is the first thing he hears, after “Sir” Alanna delivers her fatal blow. He doesn’t even realize that he’s trying to rush forward until strong arms pull him back. “There’s nothing you can do for him,” Gary is saying, but Alex is still staring at Roger’s body, thinking, _you’re wrong, there’s always something that I can do for him, always something more._

\--

Alex’s first real conversation with Thom occurs in a corridor that he could navigate in his sleep… and has, at least once. “What are you doing here?” He still expects Roger to sweep around the nearest corner and greet him: _Alex, I’ve been looking for you,_ or _You’re needed for an important assignment,_ or _I want you undressed and riding me by the time I extinguish this light._ He would even accept something like, _Alex, you’ve displeased me greatly…_

“…has asked me to sort through some of his departed cousin’s personal effects, and make sure that they can’t be used against the kingdom,” Thom is saying.

“He’s not worried that you’ll decide to keep a few mementos for yourself?”

“My sister trusts me, and the prince trusts _her_.” Alex barely suppresses a snort at the idea that anybody at Court still does. “And she knows better than anyone how difficult it is for me to curb my curiosity,” Thom continues. “I was warned that you’d be lurking about, by the way.”

“It’s useful to know where I stand with His Highness, I suppose,” Alex says drily. “What did he suggest that I might do: try to stop you?”

“Do you think that you could have?” Thom’s violet eyes suddenly seem a just a little bit brighter. 

Alex shivers, not entirely from fear. “If you need an extra pair of eyes or hands, you can call on me,” he says. “Not even the prince knew Duke Roger as well as I did.”

Thom considers this. “I imagine that you’re right,” he says at last.

\--

The first time that the beginning of an idea, that is barely even a plan yet, sparks within Alex’s mind, Thom has pushed aside his dinner plate and suggested a walk across the palace grounds. Words flow more easily when they don’t have to look at each other, and as their eyes adjust to the chill darkness, descriptions of the books in Roger’s personal library (Alex couldn’t have missed the little sigh that escaped Thom’s lips as he surveyed their titles) eventually turn into reminisces about his years in the City of the Gods. “You became a Master when?” Alex asks.

“A year ago last spring,” Thom says. “While, no doubt, you were embroiled in some thrilling battle or other.”

“I was between border patrols, and so Duke Gareth asked me to instruct some of the older pages,” Alex recalls. “The training yards were very muddy, and I remember warning them that most battlefields would be even worse.”

“I can’t imagine living that life,” Thom admits. “But I don’t think Alanna ever imagined any other. I suspect that it’s the same for you.”

“You’re suggesting that she and I have something in common?” Alex inquires. “She once said the same about you and me. I thought she was _confiding_ in me by talking about her family.”

“Surely, you kept secrets from her as well.”

“A few,” Alex agrees, staring ahead into the darkness. He’s surprised that Thom hasn’t asked about his loyalties – a noticeable source of palace gossip – and doesn’t know how to react to a strike that never seems to come. “As I’m sure that you’re keeping your share of them from me.”

“No more than necessary, I promise. Ask me what you will.”

Several questions suggest themselves to Alex. He settles for one of the simpler ones. “Why did the prince warn you about me? What did he say?”

“That you remain devoted to your former knight-master,” Thom says, “and that you might still try to protect his interests after he’s gone.”

“What do they think that would accomplish? It’s not as if he can...” The thought, which is quickly becoming an idea, hits Alex like a sudden blow to the stomach.

_It’s not as if he can come back._

\--

The first time Alex kisses Thom, far enough from one of the paths in the Royal Forest that they’re unlikely to be caught, he reminds himself of how useful this new connection will be, so that during the second kiss, and the third, he can stop thinking and planning, if only for a few moments.

When Thom’s fingers caress his neck, the touch sparks with magic, and Alex stops his apology with another kiss. “Please,” he whispers, “do more of that.”

Thom does. “Here?”

Alex’s skin is tingling, his mind spinning open, violet light threading the space behind his eyes when he closes them. “Everywhere.”

\--

Lady Delia is the first person to approach Roger, and probably the first to touch him, after he returns to life. Alex tells himself that, as the one who finally tipped their plan toward success, she has earned that right. He isn’t sure whether he wants to run _to_ or _from_ his former knight-master, but he still feels the familiar ache of jealousy, like a twinge from an old wound before a storm begins.

It strikes over and over again in the weeks and months that follow. He isn’t sure whether he’s jealous of Thom, or of Roger, or both of them, when he sees them with their heads bent together, their shoulders pressed against each other, deep in conversation about mystical forces that Alex can never hope to understand.

He’s still cursing his own weakness when Roger lifts his head, meets Alex’s eyes, and smiles.

\--

This is the first time in years that Alex has watched the Beltane fires from the top of the castle wall, and he thinks at first that he’s alone. “Do you think that the gods will grant their wishes for prosperity?” Thom asks quietly, shuffling to Alex’s side as if every step, from his quarters to their shared vantage point, has taken considerable effort.

“Some forces are more powerful than mortals’ wishes,” Alex replies. “But then, I’m in no position to offer _you_ mystical insight.” What will the view look like after they have carried out Roger’s plans? What will the people of Tortall – or what’s left of them – be praying for at this time next year?

“I assumed that you would have formed _some_ opinions after listening to Roger for so many years,” Thom says.

“Well, then, I hate to disappoint you,” Alex says, surprising even himself with the realization that it’s true.

“I promise that you haven’t.” Thom’s fingers are a little bit too warm on the back of his neck, and it’s both exciting and alarming. “Come inside. He’s waiting for us.”

How many times has Alex summoned people into Roger’s presence with almost those exact same words? Did they feel as numb as he does now?

Inside, Thom leans over Roger’s chair for a kiss, and when they separate, Roger is grinning more widely than ever. “The sooner you’re on your hands and knees, Alex,” he says, “the happier all of us will be.” Before he even finishes that sentence, Alex - ensnared by the sound of his name in that commanding voice - does as he’s directed. “Always so eager to please me,” Roger says, smoothing his hair. “I promise that your obedience will be rewarded.”

Alex feels other hands pull at his clothes, loosening them enough to slide beneath his tunic and shirt, brushing over a scar from a Tusaine knight’s sword and another one from Roger’s ritual knife. He can’t resist asking Thom, “Do you want this?” Roger has always been so, so good at giving people what they _think_ they want, or convincing them that his desires and theirs were one...

“We all want something,” Thom replies from somewhere behind him.

“And I don’t recall” - Roger gives Alex’s hair a brutal tug - “telling you to speak. There are, of course, several ways that either of us could silence you, some of which you might even enjoy, but I hoped that you would still be capable of some self-restraint.” Not for the first time, Alex glimpses the cruelty and insatiable thirst for power that Alanna must have seen in Roger’s face, as he bore down on her with his sword at the end - or what she thought was the end - and he feels the faintest ghost of fear. “Thom, you don’t need to be careful with him.”

“My damaging your best fighter would do none of us any good,” Thom points out. 

“Oh, there’s plenty that we can do before he breaks completely,” Roger says. As he gives instructions, Thom traces almost-familiar patterns into the small of Alex’s back, and Alex _feels_ power crackle up his spine and light up something inside his mind that makes him tremble from head to toe. He thinks about how that energy would feel on the most sensitive parts of him, how it will feel _inside_ him, and clenches his teeth against a moan, no longer able to hide how much he’s missed this. 

“Does he need to see?” Thom asks, his own voice filled the same curiosity with which he might approach a rare magical tome, something to be opened and perused and deciphered.

“I suppose not. He’ll let me guide him.” Roger leans down and kisses Alex between the eyes. “Won’t you?”

“Of course, my lord,” Alex whispers, because he’s missed that even more. 

“Show us that your body and mind can take what none of my other consorts’ could,” Roger commands. “Show us that you’re the _best_ of them all.”

Those words work a kind of magic that, from the beginning until now, Alex has always been helpless to resist. As the room fades into darkness, he understands that every time he thinks he has nothing left to give, Roger will always prove him wrong.


End file.
